Seeking Guidance
by staceycj
Summary: Aaron goes looking for Sam and Dean, and what he finds scares him. This goes along in the Scripted vein, although you do not have to read it to understand.


Season 5. Wow, our little show made it, I've won an Emmy and my co-star is up for his own Emmy. And now, our creator, the man who made all of this possible is leaving, and he's leaving us with the option to continue the show. The network wants it, the fans want it, and a part of me wants it, but the other part, the part that has met Dean and Sam Winchester, the part that has fought along side of them, who has seen them in action, knows how tirelessly the work for the greater good, and for the people of the world, isn't so sure if we should just continue with the show, go "off book" as it were. Because well, no one can find Chuck, he wrote the last book, the book that we are going to use as our season 5 finale, and it seem so….well…final….it implies that Sam is trapped in the pitt with Lucifer wearing him as a cheap suit. And if that is the case, if that is true, I need to know. I need to know that the Winchesters are still out there, I need to know if they are still hunting things and saving people. I need to know that they are still fighting the good fight. Because, if they aren't…why should we continue the story? Why should we make up crap about their lives that won't happen, can't happen? If Dean is the only one still top side, why should we make it so Sam is still living, and put it out there for the world to see, and especially for Dean, rub salt into the wound as it were?

I spent a week or two looking for Chuck, hell I even hired a PI to try to find him. There was nothing anywhere that linked Chuck to the mortal world. No social security number, no name on a deed, no name on a birth certificate…there wasn't a single trace anywhere in the world that Chuck had ever existed. I even spoke to his neighbors, they said that no one had lived in that house for over a decade, that the person who owned it just let it sit, that they kept hoping that someone would condemn it because it was an eye sore. But I had been in that house, I had met Chuck, I had done a lot of work with Chuck.

One afternoon while we were on a shoot I talked to my co-star about whether or not he was going to sign for more seasons after season five, he said if the stories were good, of course, the money was good, the fans were awesome, and the steady work was fantastic. Why wouldn't he? I asked if he was concerned because Chuck hadn't written any books in a while. He said, "Dude, isn't Chuck dead? I mean, didn't he die before we started?" I didn't have a chance to say anything, we had to film. However, anyone I talked to about Chuck in those subsequent days seemed to have the same notion, Chuck was dead, dead before they started filming, no one had met him. Chuck seemingly had been erased.

I supposed that some Supernatural wammie had been had on everyone, and somehow I had missed the wammie-maybe I was in a lead lined room or something, and that was why I was the only person that remembered Chuck, so I supposed that the only way to find Dean Winchester was by going through Castiel, because if Chuck's books were accurate, and all of the ones that Dean had seen were startling accurate, then Cass lived at the end, and I need to find Dean.

I prayed and prayed for days, every single day, but no Cass. Frustration was beginning to set in, and when it did, I actually yelled into the empty air around me. And that was when Castiel showed up or at least I assumed he was Castiel, he was wearing the trench coat after all.

"Are you Cass?"

"Yes." The dark haired angel said gruffly.

"Good. I need you to help me find Dean Winchester."

"There is no need to find him. I know where he is."

Well hell, if the books weren't more right than I wanted them to be. This dude is insanely literal, and a tad on the dense side. "Ooookay.." I drew out.

"You don't really look like Dean." I closed my eyes tight and fought not to pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Thank you for that information."

"You don't have nearly enough scars." It was like this guy was in his own little world, like he didn't realize that I was getting more frustrated by the second.

"It's probably because I'm NOT Dean, and because I'm an actor who plays Dean."

"Yes, this is true. You do a nice job of it as well. That must be why they selected you. Because you look nothing like him otherwise."

"Dude! Seriously! Do you think I've prayed my brains out for days for you to come here and critique my physical appearance?"

"Yes. Definitely. They picked you because you are similar to Dean in personality."

I pushed my hands through my hair and glared and the trench coated angel. "Where is Dean?!"

"You do not have to yell at me." Well if that didn't make me want to STRANGLE him nothing did. "He is with Bobby."

"And where is Bobby?"

"At his salvage yard."

"Oh my God!" I screamed. "Has it been hardwired into you not to give a complete answer?!"

"I am answering the questions you are asking. Perhaps you need to be more specific in your questions."

"Why Dean hasn't murdered you at this point is the real question." Castiel began to answer that, and I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Where EXACTLY is Dean?"

"He is at Bobby's house, in South Dakota."

"Thank you. Now, is Sam with him?"

"No."

I was beginning to shake with rage. "Where is Sam exactly?"

"He gave his life to save the world. He is in the pit with Lucifer and Michael."

"Shit. So it did happen exactly as Chuck wrote it."

"You have had contact with Chuck?" Castiel asked quickly.

"No. Have you?"

"No. Bobby, Dean and I have not heard or seen Chuck since the night Sam was condemned to hell."

"Dean hasn't been able to find a way to get him out?"

Castiel looked away from me, almost like the thought of Dean's current state made him sad.

"No. No. Dean hasn't been able to find a way. He has been trying for the last three years."

"It's been three years?"

"Yes. And he has tried, but to no avail."

"Will you take me to him?"

"I don't think that would be wise."

"I need to see him, I need to talk to him. Take me to him." Castiel seemed to mull that over for a moment, and then he pressed two fingers to my forehead, and I was in a room, dark and dingy-full of books and the smell of must, and in front of me, was the haphazard remains of Dean Winchester-my breath was taken.


End file.
